


Eyes On The Target

by fynndin



Category: Marvel (Comics), The Avengers (Marvel) - All Media Types
Genre: Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Canon-Typical Violence, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Mutual Pining, POV Tony Stark, Pining
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-11
Updated: 2016-06-11
Packaged: 2018-07-14 08:45:08
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 10,127
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7163153
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fynndin/pseuds/fynndin
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>That day Natasha showed up and handed the Avengers a mission that sounded easy as pie, that was the day Tony already knew it would all go south.</p><p>He also knew that he had an entirely different problem. Namely Steve. Not that Steve would ever be a problem. Not in and on itself. The problem was more the part where he was constantly around Steve but never with him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eyes On The Target

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Lets_call_me_Lily](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lets_call_me_Lily/gifts).



> The wonderful, awesome, transcendentally stellar antigrav_vector betad this so now it is not a wreck of SpaG-errors anymore and reads more fluidly. Honour to her name, she did a marvellous job and I am in her debt! (P.s.: I hate punctuation.)
> 
> This is part of the Cap-Iron Man Reverse Big Bang 2016 and I wrote it for the wonderful art by [ Let's_Call_Me_Lily](http://archiveofourown.org/collections/cap_ironman_2016_RBB/works/7151867).

[day -24, Stark Tower, Workshop]  
"A briefing?" Tony asked incredulously and even deigned to look up from the open repulsor gauntlet he was tinkering with "When did we go back to briefings? Almost sounds like we're serious again and not just, you know, avenging on sight."

Steve sighed. "I'm serious, Shellhead. It's in cooperation with SHIELD. Scheduled mission for them, briefing for us and they specifically asked to make sure that you are assigned on this one and are present for all organizational discussions. We function pretty well on the basis that all of us want to help, but if I have to pull rank on this one, I will. I'm still the Captain of this team."

Tony smirked at him. "Are you saying you'd make me?" he joked.

"What?" Steve frowned at him.

"Nothing," Tony diffused. "No worries, I'll be there. Maybe not on time but I'll be there." When Steve kept hovering next to the couch, Tony gave him a long look. "See? I'm really paying attention. I'll be there, Avengers Mansion in five hours, 32 minutes." He tapped something into his tablet. And held it up. It showed a timer, meticulously counting down from 5 hours, 27 minutes now.

Steve lifted an eyebrow. "The armor will get me there in three," Tony said, rolling his eyes. "Or are we keeping a low profile, trying to obscure where this mansion everyone knows about is?"

With another sigh that sounded almost like "Probably all I'm gonna get," Steve left and Tony dove back into his work. But not without peeking up at the Captain leaving. He'd rather have the Captain stay, but that wouldn't happen any time soon.

 

 

[day -24 (later), Avengers Mansion]

When he entered, everyone else was already seated. Jan was chatting with Thor, apparently trying to convince him once again that a traditional, dark blue suit would be a better look on him than a red cape and bulky armor. Steve was already perusing his copy of whatever file they'd have to work with today.

What made Tony stop in his tracks for just a second was the sight of Natasha Romanov standing at the head of the table. When she heard him enter, she turned towards him, offered him the hint of a smile and nodded. Tony wasn't too sure what to make of that. On the one hand, meeting Natasha was always interesting and they were on good terms now, but on the other hand, meeting the Black Widow unannounced often enough promised an interesting but rather unpleasant time. He decided to flash her a smile, nod back, and sit down, for now.

Natasha looked around. "Well, I guess we can start. Or did you see Clint on your way up here, Mr Stark?"

"Can't say that I did," he answered. "Also, I'm disappointed, Miss Romanov. I thought we were on first names. People who save my ass usually get that privilege."

She huffed in reply and then opened the file on the table in front of her. When Tony took his place in one of the two unoccupied chairs, he found a folder for him waiting there as well.

"As you all probably can guess from the files, I am here as a representative of SHIELD," Natasha opened. "This mission should be as simple as it is important. You all got an invitation to a charity auction in three weeks." She paused to look around.

"I may have... not already canceled that," Tony replied without prompt.

"Good," Natasha proceeded without further acknowledging that she had been interrupted, "and you won't. In fact, you will all answer in the positive. Or, if you feel like expressing your inner rebellious kindergarten child, Stark, you may as well cancel it and simply appear unannounced, but each of you will attend. The public thinks the Avengers have simply been invited to draw in more guests. Maybe also assure high bids since you all have money and would definitely bid in the name of building a care center for starving street kids in New York, but mainly you're all a publicity stunt. Stark, you're there for the money."

"Of course I am," he said, rolling his eyes. He wasn't even annoyed, but he preferred to play his part. "So no public announcements that I'm Iron Man until at least that auction is over, I guess?"

Natasha shot him a dagger of a glare. "Exactly. If that should happen anyway, we'll make sure that the public sees a spectacular incineration of Iron Man, making sure that by the date, everyone is convinced you can't be him because he's dead as a rock. So, back to topic. You're there because you're rich, generous towards charity and don't know shit about art but still purchase it for irrational amounts of money at times."

"You continue to flatter me, please go ahead," Tony quipped. The team let out a collective sigh.

Just as Tony contemplated whether he should stop the commentary to avoid further death glares, the door opened and Clint - visibly straining to take up as little space as possible and make just as much noise - snuck through, quietly padding to the last unoccupied seat. Natasha rolled her eyes. She was used to herding this bag of cats that was called the Avengers after all.

"As I was about to say," she continued and focused back in on Tony, "the important part is that you purchase one specific item. SHIELD needs it, preferably without anyone knowing that we have it, so just behave like your normal annoying self at public events, make up a reason why this one strikes your fancy and get this item." She slightly lifted the file so the other team members could see which page she was on and jabbed at the picture of an ancient looking dagger with a gem encrusted sheath. "Since you have conveniently taken up residence outside of Avengers Mansion already, it would be good if you could stash the item at your tower as well. SHIELD will retrieve it within a day from the auction. We just want to avoid someone following you and getting suspicious because the item lands elsewhere."

"And at what part do we enter this plan as the dancing monkeys we were hired?" Steve asked slightly annoyed. He'd never been too thrilled about being dressed up for public appearances.

"You're all on watch duty," Nat stated with a pointed look around the room. "We have taken care that the intel about this item is kept under wraps, but you never know. If any attempt should be made to steal any of the auction items, press Tony into not bidding or handing it over, anything really to keep this mission from running smooth, you're on immediate response to resolve the situation. Be ready to blow cover and get into combat on command."

Clint asked tentatively: "This file doesn't list me as having an invitation - which is true. So far. So where do I enter the field?"

"You'll be on the lookout. Do what you do best. Sneak through suspicious places, keep an eye on the big picture, don't get caught," Nat summed up. "Questions?"

Jan suddenly sported a possibly beaming grin. "So does that mean, I'll have to provide Thor with a suit?"

Thor looked at her sideways. "I am sure I should attend this event in my accustomed Avengers gear if we will be present for the purpose of getting guests interested and to ensure the safety of friend Stark."

Natasha mustered him. "I'm sure you in one of Jan's suits would draw guests alright," she smirked. "Most of the team is not out to the public, though, so they will attend in uniform either way. Whatever you do is up to you, Thor."

That being settled, the remaining questions were all about the item Tony was meant to purchase and most of them remained unanswered for the old, irritating reason of being classified. Of course, that didn't mean Tony wouldn't know soon either way. He was already halfway through SHIELD security before the briefing was closed. He already knew it was goddamn magic. At the very least he wanted an overview as to how fucked up this could get.

 

 

When they were finally done, Steve brought the pages in his file in order again and looked at the clock in the meeting room. "Pretty much time for dinner," he remarked and looked over to Tony. "You want to come?"

Tony knew exactly how he meant it. The team made an effort to have dinner and breakfast together and Tony more often than not wasn't around since he had started setting up living quarters in the tower. By now most things were set and arranged there and often he thought it was time to go back to mainly living at the mansion. He was part of a team after all.

Steve was just asking him to stay for dinner with a team that needed trust and bonding. Tony wouldn't have minded at all if Steve had intended the other meaning of asking him to come for dinner, but that wasn't their kind of relationship. Tony still offered him a smile. "You're on cooking duty and need a hand or how do I earn this?" Tony joked. A hint of irritation on Cap's face made him add: "Nah, just kidding. Sure, I'd love to." He looks around the room. "Team dinners are great. Should come over more often."

Before he could ponder further on how much nicer it would be, if Steve had meant the other kind of coming for dinner, Janet hooked herself into Tony's arm and dragged him out of the meeting room. "You totally should. Also, as a matter of fact, today is my turn for cooking and I definitely won't turn down your generous offer to help."

"Hey," Tony exclaimed in mock protest but let himself get dragged along easily.

"I'll help as well," Clint announced, bouncing down the hall after them.

Janet groaned. "Yeah, I know your kind of help. I hope we have enough spare vegetables for to make a full meal after you’re finished helping."

 

 

Half an hour later, the three of them were sitting in the kitchen together. Tony was just about done with peeling what seemed to be far too many potatoes. Janet had set up pans and every now and then stepped away from the counter to get some ingredient or kitchen aide. Most of the time she also took the chance to keep Clint from eating half of the carrots he was supposed to scrub and chop.

She probably wasn't quite as successful with her attempts as Tony was. Instead of whacking at Clint's fingers he just kept his mouth occupied by pressing him for feedback on the latest recurve bow Tony had made him.

While Clint was still summing up his last experiences on the range and Tony just picked up the last potato, Steve entered the kitchen. His hair was damp with sweat, just as his shirt. His usual, certainly not too loose workout shirt, that really was more of an excuse for not being naked. Because loose clothes got in the way too much, Steve always insisted. Tony bit back an amused remark on Cap's workout clothes. He had already made plenty of them in the past and he was slightly afraid that at some point it might make Steve switch to other shirts. Tony wouldn't possibly be able to live with being to blame for that.

Steve made a beeline for the fridge, got out a carton of milk and after weighing it in his hand shrugged and started drinking from it. Tony's mind wasn't that far from short circuiting on that sight as a single drop of milk ran down Steve's chin before he could wipe it off. Jan gave Steve a stern look.

"I was going to finish the carton anyway," Steve argued.

Tony reckoned that this was obviously not in the range of good manners, but on the other hand he had a hard time to object. He turned back to his potato, bit his lip and pushed away the picture that occupied his mind right now. If he had thought that his mind wandering to dinner dates with Steve had been inappropriate, he wasn't sure what to label what was happening now. The idea of sparring and after some time landing on his back being pressed into the ground by Steve, both of them in tight fitting, sweaty workout clothes. Potato. He should peel it.

He looked up when Steve's hand landed on his shoulder. "Happy to have you around again, Tony." He smiled, all accidental temptation gone. A soft, happy smile. "I was almost sure you'd just bail on my offer."

"It's not like I don't enjoy being with the team," Tony said. "I just have a lot to do is all. But the new apartment is coming along nicely, the workshop in the tower feels livable by now and - what?"

Steve had interrupted him with a sudden fit of laughter. "Only you, Shellhead. I swear, only you would refer to a workshop as livable." He let his hand slip from Tony's shoulder and Tony took great care to not look longingly after it. "But I'll sure be happy to have you back here permanently," Steve finished before chugging down the rest of the milk he was still holding. This time without spilling anything, but still inadvertently drawing focus to his stretched pecs and throat. The handsome bastard.

"This certainly explains why the mansion appears vast," Thor exclaimed when he stepped into the kitchen and saw everyone holed up in there. "It really is a timeless custom that the people of a household gather around the hearth, isn’t it?" He smiled broadly while rummaging through the fridge.

"Its time will come very quickly on my cooking shift," Janet interrupted when she almost ran into the open fridge door on her way to a cabinet. "Everyone who's not helping, get the hell out of here," she said in mock command voice and pointed at the door. Thor frowned at her for a moment before seeing the problem.

"Oh," he let out. "Of course, my excuses for hindering your work in the kitchen, I shall -" he looked into the fridge once more - "I shall take my leave and simply wait for the meal to be finished." He closed the door and indeed left. Another pointed look from Janet made Steve hurry to throw away the empty milk carton and get out as well. Tony smiled amusedly, finally peeled the last potato and picked up his conversation with Clint again.

 

 

[day -2, Avengers Mansion]

He was late again and this time it was in fact bothering him. Tony was perfectly aware that his time management was screwed up any day, but he felt a lot much worse about it when he intended to meet up with friends. It was only a few minutes, though, and Jan knew him well enough. Also, she was an angel about it - which only made him feel worse. She had offered to put his outfit for the auction together, after all.

Tony knocked at the door and strode into the room as soon as he heard an answer. "Jan, I'm sorry, you know me and..."

Slowly his mind caught up to the fact that the answer had been in the negative. Slowly, because this realization has to worm its way through the picture he was presented with. It's not that Steve wouldn't be a sight to remember in his usual slacks and t-shirt, but him in custom tailored suit pants and an elegant, mauve dress shirt with rolled up sleeves all but knocked the wind out of Tony's lungs. He distantly registered Jan, standing frozen next to Steve with a measuring tape held along his arm.

"Um, sorry, I must have misheard that," he stammers before turning around on his heel and slamming the door shut behind him. He leans against it, first to take a long breath and then to smile at the image etched into his mind. Not helping. Not at all. The situations where he just wanted to surge forward and plainly tell Steve how he felt were coming in bulk lately. He'd have to work something out about that. Preferably something that did not include confessing his undying love to Captain America.

For now, though, his plan went as far as getting away from the door and waiting for Janet to call him in. He was about to push off the door with his shoulders when suddenly the world around him tilted dangerously.

After a moment of falling in disorientation, he found himself in Steve's outstretched arm. Steve, who was standing in the suddenly open door. Way to make a good impression. At least Steve looked equally flustered and rushed to get him back to his feet. "Sorry, um, I didn't expect you to still be there, Tony."

"No worries, Cap," Tony rambled with his best nonchalant voice. "Didn't expect myself to fall for you like that, but good catch." He smiled broadly at Steve and then decided to turn around to Jan before he could spurt any more jokes that held more truth than he cared to admit. Mercifully, Steve left and Tony could finally focus on what he came for.

"So," Jan began and gave him a once over "I see you already chose a suit. Let's start with getting you another one. This one screams so last year, it's not even funny."

"Always words of encouragement." Tony sighed. "Ok, I actually liked this one but I won't object to your professional knowledge. Something you had in mind?"

Of course she had something in mind.

 

 

[day 0, a townhouse in Manhattan]

Entering had been the regular song and dance with camera flashes going off pretty much as soon as Tony had set foot out of the car. Only a select few reporters had been allowed into the area of the event, so it was quiet still. He waved a few greetings left and right and soon stepped into the already crowded foyer. It was nicely decorated. Huge wall hangings, probably as much for aesthetic reasons as for dampening the constant murmur. Everything was brightly lit but in a comfortable, warm temperature. From the far end of the hall, a light flute melody drifted over the crowd, accompanied by a grant piano.

Tony almost entirely ignored the tray with drinks a waitress offered to him. It was only when he was about to run into the woman, that he registered her and managed to avoid causing a collision. Nodding something like thanks or maybe an apology, he took a glass of orange juice and looked over the crowd.

The call to leave for this event had ripped him right out of a project, and, under normal circumstances, he'd probably have preferred being incredibly late or not turning up at all but he had a vague feeling that Natasha would have torn him a new one if he had dared.

So here he was.

The repulsor with the experimental extended focal range that he’d been working on, on the other hand, was neatly tucked away in his shop and he wouldn't have a chance to get his hands on it again until tomorrow. That didn't stop his mind from going through further options of lens coatings. When his racing thoughts paused for a moment, he became aware that he probably looked suspicious or like an idiot, or maybe like a suspicious idiot.

He had a constantly present if changing company of people who were trying to tell him their life’s story or maybe about their new dog or whatever, but he wasn’t even present enough to make fun of it. He just… stood there. Maybe he could find somewhere to just stand where at least he’d look like he was already busy.

With a quick glance around the room, he found Steve only a few steps from him and engrossed in a vivid discussion with some highly decorated veteran. Tony sipped at his drink again before he sauntered over to the two and stopped in close proximity to them, so he would look at least somewhat involved in their conversation. In all likelihood, classic lens shapes wouldn't work, regardless of coating. In the required configuration, the build would become far too bulky.

Tony blinked. He wasn’t entirely sure what had drawn his attention back to the conversation he was pretending to be in, but Steve looked tense. 

Not just tense like he was on watch. More like he was about to explode into someone's face. And knowing Steve, he probably would, but right now he was at least somewhat under cover until blowing it became necessary. He’d have to play nice. Tony stepped closer until their elbows brushed. Steve pushed back ever so slightly. Tony had his back and he knew it.

Tony's thoughts tried to drift back to his designs again, but when he saw Steve all but grinding his teeth, he decided he needed to intervene. He cleared his throat. "Beg your pardon," he said to the veteran. "I just need a quick word with the Captain."

Steve turned enough so his face wasn't visible to the old man. Tony didn't need to say anything. He just lifted an eyebrow. "Homophobe," Steve muttered quietly. "Disgusting, hate-breeding homophobe. Pretty much wishes the entire queer community would drop dead."

Tony narrowed his eyes. 

"Tony, no," Steve muttered.

Tony turned back to the old man. For a brief moment he considered a spiteful remark about how he could just go and die. He wasn’t known for holding back, but a backhanded outing of Tony Stark would probably make a good deal of cover useless. He bit his tongue hard.

“So I guess you’d have been better off, if all those queers who served beside you had just died before joining the army. Sounds reasonable.”

Since he had absolutely no intentions of staying to debate about his stance on the matter, Tony walked away before the old man could fully process his words.

With a glance back he identified that strange sound he had just heard as Steve almost choking on his drink. "Very eloquent," Natasha remarked over the com in Tony's ear. If he hadn't been on listen-only mode, he'd have told her how much more eloquence he could have come up with, had he tried. Instead, he just ignored the jab and walked through the crowd aimlessly.

He quickly discovered Jan who was surrounded by a small swarm of women. She acted through it pretty well, but Tony saw all the subtle hints that in fact she was incredibly bored. Thor on the other hand was easier to find and also surrounded by a flock of women. He had indeed agreed to wear a suit tonight and didn't look bored in the slightest. Much more like he was having a really good time retelling some of his adventures.

It was nearly time for the auction. Tony had managed to get his wandering thoughts under control. Now he just had to get his socializer part going. He turned around for something that caught his eye and faced a woman who had just been in the movement of throwing her long, black hair back when their gazes crossed. He may very well have looked away and seen for who else was around, but there was a hint of something in her face. Doubt? Insecurity? Aversion? It flickered away too quickly to really see it.

There wasn't really any other way to find out what that flicker of emotion had been aside from walking over to her and striking up a conversation. So he did just that.

"Good evening," he opened. "You look like someone who could make this evening worth staying here." Actually, Steve seemed to be a much more valid reason to stay here, but compliments on average were a good way to get people to talk. And this woman didn't look like the type you'd get interested by telling her that you liked the color of her eyes.

"Mr Stark." She all but purred his name. "Your presence here is unexpected; your way of approaching me... not so much."

This definitely sounded like he should know her, but aside from the distant feeling that the way she moved was familiar, he had no clue who this woman could be. "I guess I have a certain reputation." Tony added a suggestive edge to his smile. "But you don't seem too put off by that."

"Not necessarily," she mused and returned his smile.

"Since you already seem to know me, may I ask with whom I have the pleasure of speaking?" Tony considered holding out a hand. It would be the polite thing to do. But he didn't like touching strangers. This woman was not in any way a priority for him, so he kept his hands to himself.

"Lydia," she answered. "Lydia Snow."

Subtle, but she had hesitated to add the last name. This was a fake. Tony would bet his latest suit on it.

He wasn't here to investigate the presence of people with fake identities, but right now he also didn't have anything better to do. And flirting was fun, so he stuck to it. She responded nicely.

It was amusing, if only for the fact that Tony had the distinct impression this woman meant all of her advances as seriously as Tony did. But for all the thrill of this little game, Tony soon noticed employees of the event going around and passing on a message to the guests. "It appears the auction will start any moment now," Tony mentioned.

"You're right. Shall we, then?" the woman asked and offered him her arm. Slightly amused Tony accepted it and they delved into the slow drift of the crowd towards the auction hall.

As they were already almost past the doorway of the hall, Tony spotted Steve, who was giving him an enigmatic -pained? - look but quickly turned away as he saw Tony looking back. Tony wasn't sure what that was about, but he also wasn't particularly eager to follow through on a flirt that would most likely end in an awkward goodbye. He turned back to the woman. "If you'd excuse me. I just remembered, I still have to get something in order before the bidding starts." The woman raised her eyebrows but let go of his arm without further questioning.

Tony made his way over to Steve as quickly as it went without pushing people aside. When he got there, Steve was looking at him, half expectantly, half confused. "Mr Stark, I think we should take our seats now," he said and it almost didn't sound staged until he muttered: "Why'd you come over, Tony? Anything happened?"

"Sure, why don't we," Tony began, even before Steve had stopped talking. He then dropped his voice and lowly added: "Nothing, except you looking like I kicked your puppy." Steve cast his glance aside. "If nothing's on, let's get this over with," Tony concluded. He'd find out what was up another time.

 

 

The bidding at the beginning was unspectacular, the objects of no particular interest to Tony. He still participated in three auctions, just to keep the appearance up. This left him as the owner of a not particularly ugly Chinese vase. It probably was a masterpiece and maybe the name of the dynasty it was from should have rung a bell, but it didn't.

Tony started to feel seriously annoyed by this entire spiel when they finally projected a picture of the dagger to the wall.

Just as expected, the description consisted solely of historical factoids and a handful of names of people who apparently had owned the thing at some point. Not a word of magic. Nothing of what SHIELD had called a local separation field dampener. Or in simple words: A device that made opening portals easier.

So far prices had been respectable but not over the top for anything. He looked around and caught Mystery Lady glancing at him.

The first biddings started in the low 100.000s. The gems on the sheath alone had higher net value, though, so Tony leaned back and waited. At three million dollars the bidding speed slowed down so he took a moment to weigh keeping a low profile against making clear that he seriously wanted this thing - thus possibly scaring off other bidders.

"Four millions," he eventually stated. A few heads turned. That was by far the highest step until now. Not to his surprise, Mystery Lady was among those who looked at him now.

What came as a bit of a surprise was her doubling his price. Now that turned a lot more heads. She shared the effect with Tony by not taking her eyes off him for a single blink while placing the bid. Sure enough, a lot of looks bounced between her and him now.

Eight millions was definitely far above the net value and probably above the historical value as well. Tony wasn't too sure about that. What he was very sure about was, that this woman was driven by more than the object's obvious value to get it. Maybe she knew about its powers. Tony really would have preferred to inform someone about her and his suspicions, but as long as she kept staring at him, he could hardly give any kind of hint to anyone.

For now he'd just keep up her pace. He had hoped to get this over with without too much attention but that had never been an option it seemed.

At 20 million, Tony heard Natasha's voice on the coms: "We haven't yet found out who she is, but we'll keep an eye on her, Tony. You just make sure you get the dagger. We're still not even close to what this thing is worth to SHIELD."

When Tony bid 35 millions, the woman narrowed her eyes for a blink. So she had a budget and they were getting close to the limit.

At 38 she took her eyes off of him and her further bids sounded slightly pressed.

At 42 she folded. She kept it together rather well, but Tony saw indicators of stress nonetheless. She was furious. She had probably imagined this to be just as much of a milk run as Tony had expected.

Tough luck. The dagger was his now.

If there should be anyone amongst the crowd who shouldn't know anything was going on with Tony and this dagger, it was too late now, so Tony didn't bother to bid on anything else or even just look interested. Instead he stared some more at Mystery Lady. Who was she? And did he even want to know?

It didn't come to mind. Two hours later, it all was over either way. Tony avoided running into her again. He was sure by now that this woman had known about the dagger being magical. Running into magic people was not among the list of things he was actively after.

He followed a suited clerk who led him into a room where his two items were waiting for him. He watched them being packed up, called in the the two security guards he had brought with him and had them bring the packages to his car.

He pondered his options. He really didn't feel like going back to the crowd and he had done his share of work. Also, letting the dagger sit in his car didn't sound like a smart choice. He followed the two guards to his car where Happy was already waiting. The man was smiling at him, but settled for a simple greeting when he saw Tony's expression.

Tony didn't even know why he was so glum suddenly. Sure, it had not been perfect, but the mission had been fulfilled.

Oh, right. Magic. That was probably it. He scowled even more than before.

 

 

The drive home went without any interruptions. As soon as they reached the tower, Tony took over the package, rode the elevator up to his apartment and stuffed the dagger into an inbuilt safe. He should really talk to Stephen Strange about options to shield off magic. A magic proof safe would be so useful.

For now this would have to do. Tomorrow Natasha would come over and relieve him of this thing. Tomorrow, 10 am.

 

 

[day 1, Stark Tower]

Tony didn’t look at the safe. He absolutely didn't, because there was nothing in there to worry about or to look at. In a few hours, Nat would drop by, take the dagger, and it would be gone forever. Simple as that. Which was also the reason why he was absolutely not looking at the safe.

Instead, he passed through the living room into the kitchen and to the thankfully full carafe of freshly brewed coffee. A quick look at the clock explained sufficiently why Jarvis had not yet gotten breakfast ready. Not at 5 in the morning.

Tony considered going to bed but he while his brain felt kind of fried, he was pretty sure he wouldn't fall asleep either way. He shuffled over to the fridge and looked through all the things he didn't feel like eating and eventually settled for putting some cold pancakes into the microwave. On his way there he saw a message flashing on his phone. Must have left it on the counter last night.

When the pancakes were taken care of, he picked up the phone and read the text message from an unknown number: "Rescheduling rendezvous to 0530. Confirm. Nat"

It was beyond Tony why SHIELD still sometimes felt the need to use burner phones when they had established secured lines to him. Ruffled by their distrust in his methods, he answered to Natasha's SHIELD contact number. Which, of course, was classified and, of course, as the one who designed their entire security, he knew it either way. Maybe he wasn't supposed to, he wasn't sure.

The microwave beeped and since there wasn't time to reemerge into work either way, he took a couple of minutes to cut up some fruit, drowned it all in whipped cream and sat down for dinner. Breakfast. Whatever, a meal. He also thankfully remembered to set up house security to not bother Widow upon entry, regardless of where she came in, for the announced time. Anything to make this go over as quickly as possible.

After eating, putting his dishes in the sink and refilling his mug, he looked at the clock again. Time just didn't seem to pass. There were still seven minutes left and Nat would be on time, always was.

He caught himself roaming around the kitchen.

6 minutes.

Might as well get the dagger out already. Or maybe not. He didn't feel like holding it for several minutes. He definitely didn't feel like letting it sit out in the open.

He strolled through the living room, found his gaze drawn to the picture that covered the safe - again - and passed the room, over to the bar where at least something was in his line of sight to the safe. He didn't even know why he was so itchy. Probably because everything had gone eerily right so far.

That was when his phone buzzed in his pocket. Nat's number. There it was. Two minutes until rendezvous. Something must have gone south. "Yes?" was the only prompt he gave.

"Something is off, so I took the liberty of getting on my way and call up the mansion. ETA in three, Hawkeye and Cap are on their way as well. What did you confirm to me earlier?" Nat rattled off with the sounds of some low humming motor in the background.

Tony blinked in confusion. "You rescheduled. Wait, what do you mean, you took the liberty? You announced yourself for 0530, it's 29." Yes, here it went. He didn't know what went, but he went for the next control panel and turned the intruder detection systems on again. Then he strode over to the storage wall and put his hand on the biometric identification unit to unlock the compartment for the suit that was stashed in this story. Whatever would come up next, having the armor ready would not be a disadvantage.

The next words Nat said went straight over his head, focus overridden by another well familiar voice: "You better not finish that, Mr Stark, or I might have to remove that hand from you."

He turned around. At the edge of his consciousness, he heard Nat repeating something that must have been a question. He still opted to drop the phone when he realized what that golden mask he was staring at meant. Madame Masque in all her style had trained one gun at his hand and one at his head.

"I don't have a particular wish to scatter your brain over this wall or even just to sever your hand, but I might feel threatened very easily," she mused. "Just wait it out, will you? I won't take long."

That was when Tony got a glimpse of what was going on behind her. Guarded by four goons in body armor and with heavy weaponry, some teenage, gum chewing kid with huge earphones around her neck was dabbling at the revealed safe door. Right now she had already wired a hand-held device into the panel and stuck a stethoscope to the door. Would take some time for her to get past the lock, but judging by the looks of it, she knew enough of what she was doing, that Tony counted it as "when" and not "if".

"Whitney, look." He held up his hands in a placating gesture. "I don't think you know what you're getting yourself into, here," he tried. He needed time. "I mean, this is just some ancient decorative kitsch and yes, it has a huge price tag attached, but I'm sure you could find something similar without all this hassle."

She snorted. "I know there are people who call you a good actor and impeccable liar, but I'd know you're lying even if I had not seen you pay 42 million dollars for this so called kitsch yesterday. Do us all a favor and wait this out, will you?"

Tony looked at her. At her body, the way she moved. His eyes went wide. Then he laughed. "Lydia Snow? Wow, that's an inventive cover name."

"You didn't figure it out," she sneered. "Looks to me like it worked well enough. That and a mask with neural interface."

Tony pulled himself together. Two minutes. In two minutes they probably wouldn't be gone. But Tony had to make sure, had to buy some more time.

"Ok, you're right. You got me." Tony threw his hands over his head. "Security code for the safe is Romeo-Tango-9-5-Beta."

Hackergirl looked up at her boss.

"That is absolutely not the security code. Get back to it," Whitney ordered. "And you, shut up." She waved her right gun at him.

"I'm not interested in getting into a conflict that holds only disadvantages and losses for me," Tony rambled. "This is the security pass code. Why would I lie?"

Whitney stepped up to him and before Tony could say anything else, he heard a loud bang. His left ear rang and his left hand hurt like all hell. Fuck. Whitney wasn't fucking around, she had shot his fucking hand. Tony cradled it to his chest and put all his willpower into keeping himself from screaming. He should have known. Whitney knew him. She knew when he was bullshitting. And right now she was all out of patience.

Whitney lifted her chin. "Finally getting it, are we. Killing you would bring me into a much bigger lot of trouble, so don't make me, will you?"

Tony stayed curled up and between grinding his teeth in pain examined the wound. Through the palm, so it would heal. Still, the pain pulsed through his arm and whited out his thoughts every other second. He was out of options. Until the others turned up he wouldn't be able to do anything. Even teasing Whitney until she killed him wouldn't help anyone. Hackergirl would go on. Nothing would change.

Tony tried to straighten himself. He couldn't think of anything to say, really. He looked at Whitney and saw red spots at the edge of his vision. When the siren sound blared through the room, Tony realized that he was not hallucinating it. A huge red holo panel had popped up next to him. Intruder alarm. Of course, the others were trying to get in and thought he had cleared the ways for them. Whitney's eye was caught by it, too, so Tony dared to reach out to the control panel on the wall to shut the alarm down. The panel collapsed again and Whitney turned towards him. "What was that?" she asked briskly.

Tony looked at her defiantly. "Shoot me if you want to. I won't tell you."

Whitney rolled her eyes, drew a long breath and let it out in a sigh. "Should have known. Stubborn as ever."

"Some kind of alert," Hackergirl threw in. "Can't decipher the content right now, but the distribution structure looks like a system wide warning."

"What is that warning for," Whitney prompted, speaking every word with pointed anger and overdrawn patience. And pointed her right gun at his knee.

Tony opened his mouth. Shots to the knee he knew. If she hit the target - and she would - he'd probably pass out from the pain alone. He needed a distraction.

"There's some-" one of the goons began. The rest of his words went unheard as one window shattered to pieces with the distinct explosion of one of Hawkeye's trick arrows. As hell broke loose, Tony leaped towards the biometric scanner. There probably wouldn't come a better chance to get his hands on the armor than now. While around them the dust was still settling and Whitney yelled the first syllable of something, Steve kicked down the door at the other end of the room and barged in, almost fully hidden behind his shield.

It felt like the wall panel needed forever top open and reveal the red metallic casing of the folded armor. With quick side glances, Tony saw Natasha jump out from behind Steve, covering several meters with a single jump roll and firing at one goon and Whitney before really taking hold on the ground. As the goons opened fire at her, Tony finally got the familiar feeling of metal plates closing in around his hand. Of course, the left gauntlet assembled first.

This would hurt.

While the rest of the metal plates clicked into place one by one, he took aim at Whitney. The repulsor powered up with the familiar high-pitched whine and then searing pain shot through Tony's lower arm.

The first repulsor blast was deflected by some kind of barrier that had so far been invisible, but pulsed around Whitney as it was struck. In return she fired three shots in quick succession, each cleanly hitting one of the assembling suit parts out of the air. The rest closed around Tony. He pulled up a panel that told him he was one back stabilizer short and was missing two parts of the shoulder plate on his right. Manageable.

Clint, who had swung in through the window by now, shot an arrow through Whitney's calf and took cover behind the kitchen counter when the first shots went his way. Whitney didn't scream and the stoicism of her mask did the rest to make her look like it left her completely unaffected. In return she managed to shoot the holdings of a wall cupboard behind the bar.

Tony thought she had missed her target, before he heard Clint groan over coms: "Man effectively down. Bitch dropped a fucking cupboard onto my legs, I can't get up."

"The mouth on you," Steve commented and let his shield sail through the room and hit the wall only inches from Hackergirl. Tony wanted to comment on bad aim when he realized that the shield had expertly cut through all the wires she had used to connect to the wall panel. Not bad. What he also saw was that the security panel blinked green. Hackergirl had just opened the lock.

Tony took up firing at Whitney again. The force field that had protected her previously was still present but didn't look like it would withstand quite that many hits. Being encased in the glow of repulsor blasts hitting the force field at the very least was distracting. Tony took a look around. "Where's the rest?" he asked into the com.

"In Asgard and Seattle," Natasha answered curtly. "Each back on schedule for 7 am -" Tony couldn't see what exactly she was doing, but it sounded like Widow's Bites and then bones cracking. "- because this right now is not how it was planned."

Figured. They could do this.

Clint's arrow had passed through Whitney's shield, so Tony decided to try mass based projectiles instead of energy and summoned up a nail gun he had on a whim once built into the forearm of the suit. The first nail went right into Whitney's stomach. The second was on its way to go through the hand of a goon to disarm him permanently. He pulled the trigger of his weapon right before he was hit.

Tony saw the bullet flying towards Natasha. He also saw Steve in mid-air on his way to jump in between, shield raised, and didn't spare it another glance. The shield would hold it.

He fired another blast from his left hand repulsor into the direction of the goon and immediately cursed himself through the pain. His head darted back when he heard Natasha's curse-turned-shout over the com. Just in time to see both of them pushed over the edge of the broken window by the impact of the bullet. High impulse projectiles, that was new. He didn't take the time to appreciate the tactical mind behind taking these along and all but blasted himself over to the edge. He grabbed after them, but they were too far down already. He'd have to dive after them.

Behind him Whitney was slowed down by her wounds, but she had dragged herself over to the safe and grabbed the dagger. With Hackergirl's help she'd be long gone when Tony came back.

Tony wracked his brain. It didn't work out. He could hold Whitney back or jump after Steve or Natasha. He had to stay here. He had to - his eye caught at the green status bar at the bottom of the HUD. Full power on the backup energy system of the suit.

Right. if everything went according to plan, the suit would have emergency power without the arc reactor and would be able to act upon previously given commands autonomously. He chose Natasha and Steve via targeting system and entered the necessary commands to pick up and return. Then he hit the release.

The suit opened its front and all but spat Tony out. Then it closed again and made for a spectacular dive out of the window.

Tony could run, but his head was spinning. He'd run into something. And Whitney was only steps away from the window where she probably would have an escape plan. He picked up a piece of rubble and threw it at her head as best as he could with his vision blurring. "Be gone my ass," he slurred. Only now he realized his incredible luck. The one final repulsor blast at the goon had knocked him out. It was only Whitney and Hackergirl now.

Luck might have been a bit of an overstatement he admitted to himself, when he summed up the situation as: Him in bad physical shape throwing stones at a still fully armed if wounded.

Who promptly turned around, gun pointing at him. Even now her hand wasn't so much as jittery. "Never knew when to shut your mouth, did you?" she mumbled.

"Am I allowed some last words?" Tony tried. Bickering was the best chance he had right now.

"No." Tony had expected that answer. Whitney was probably about 150% done by now.

Thanks to his precognition he managed to dive away and get the bullet, that certainly had been aimed at his head, only into his thigh. Only. One gunshot wound was more than enough in his honest opinion. He pressed onto his thigh almost violently, wishing that he could simply lose all feeling in there for the next minutes.

He had managed to duck behind a couch so at least he was not visible, but the furniture didn't stop bullets. The gunshots set a clear 60 bpm rhythm and from the sound of it, Whitney was slowly walking around the couch. If he got up, Tony would be shot. If he didn't, she'd have rounded the couch soon and then he'd get shot as well. Madame Masque didn't miss when she could take aim.

Tony looked around frantically. He could reach small objects that would make distracting projectiles, but he'd probably not be able to aim them before it was too late. The next hiding spot was too far away. Fat load of good his genius brain was doing him. Two, maybe three shots before she'd have rounded the couch. Tony taught his muscles to dive for the coffee table and grab that incredibly ugly bronze statue he had always loathed. One more shot. As soon as it rang, he'd jump.

A loud sound. He jumped.

During his short flight, he realized that it hadn't been a gunshot. Whitney had cursed at full volume. And then white pain flared up in Tony's side as he crashed into the coffee table he had aimed for. The outlook of sudden death had made him forget to control his landing. "Throw it! The fucking statue, Stark!" he heard Clint shout.

Tony needed a moment to get it all together. He picked himself up as fast as he could with his probably cracked ribs and maybe a mild concussion to see Whitney fumble a second gun out of a holster with her left hand. Her right wrist was pierced with what Tony recognized as one of his kitchen knives. Fucking spy assassins.

He realized that he was indeed clutching the bronze statue and that Whitney was training a slightly shaking gun at Hawkeye who was trying to get away by scrambling away on his arms. Tony didn't waste another second and a blink later the statue hit Whitney's head with an ugly thud. She folded like a chair.

"Fucking time, Shellhead. I thought you had lost it," Clint mumbled.

Tony assessed Clint's status. He had managed to push the cupboard aside, but with one broken leg all he had managed was to get himself out from under the cupboard and into a standing position just in time to throw the knife.

Whitney was out cold but he couldn't tell how long this would last. The dagger was gone, probably taken by Hackergirl and now waiting with her in some vehicle with goons, ready to take off as soon as their boss arrived. Tony sprinted over to a drawer and pulled out a pair of experimental stage magnetic shackles. He dragged the unconscious Madame Masque over to the steel kitchen counter and unceremoniously clanked her hands to the counter top.

Now that this threat was eliminated, he took the time to take a breath and look around. The situation caught up with him again. He had definitely programmed his suit to come back once it had landed. He also had sent his com out with it. The suit had not come back and he had no clue about how the landing had gone down. Or how Natasha was. Or Steve. Fuck.

He turned around, looked for the fastest way to confirm. It took him three steps towards the broken window to realize that he was without suit, without repulsors and thus the window was not a valid exit right now. He peaked over the edge, but all he could see was the traffic stalling around some space with something big and red in it. Gleaming metal. The suit, broken on the ground. He whipped around. Elevator. Stairs. Stairs would take forever. Elevator it was.

Tony looked back hoped he Clint would manage because he had other things to worry about.

Like the unwanted image of Steve on the ground, shattered to a puddle of gore.

He knew for a fact that the elevator never took more than 30 seconds to reach the top floor, otherwise he'd have guessed it must have been at least half an hour. The soft "bing" that notified its arrival rang like a mocking remark through his mind. What if Steve was dead. What then. He hadn't said anything. Ever. It had taken him over a decade to come to terms with what he felt and had spent the last two years avoiding thoughts about because it felt so wrong.

It was just now that Tony became aware how unimaginably mind-eating his crush had been. Crush, huh, he had been falling for Steve when he still thought the man was long since gone. One chance. One more chance and he'd say something, hell, he'd kiss Steve and never let him go again. One more chance, that was -

That was the moment the doors slid open with a soft hiss. Tony surged forwards and ran into something soft. Upon impact, it made a low "oomph"-sound and crushed into the back wall of the elevator car. The soft thing turned out to be Steve who had been leaning heavily on Natasha's shoulder until he had been pushed backwards.

He made another inarticulate noise of surprise when he suddenly found Tony's mouth half on his own, half on his cheek. It took Tony a moment to correct that and kiss him properly. Another moment later his brain caught up with what was happening and he pulled back.

Steve winced hard before he said: "While I definitely wouldn't complain, my three broken ribs disagree."

Tony took a step back, got back up to Steve right again to support him and immediately winced with the impact on his hurt leg. He looked pretty battered all together and obviously standing upright was painful right now. "Sorry, I don't know what I was thinking," Tony stammered. "It's just, I didn't know, I mean, you were falling and all. I didn't mean this to..." His voice slowly trailed off towards the end of the sentence.

He searched for more words, saw Steve's frown and pulled a blank. When he didn't continue, Natasha grabbed him by his right arm and pulled Steve away from the wall. She guided them both over to the one couch that wasn't shot and all the while talked: "I'm pretty sure you two can figure out, what Tony meant. Everyone else probably has years ago. How's the situation looking?"

When she had dropped both of them on the couch she turned around to assess the room. "Good," she remarked upon Madame Masque's view. "Unconscious villains make everything easier."

"Yeah, just ignore me over here everyone," Clint remarked in a careless sing song tone.

As Natasha stepped over to him, he immediately looked like he regretted saying anything, but she just huffed and said: "As if you'll complain any less once you're in medical. Come on." She crouched down and practically picked him up. While Clint informed her about the general situation, Natasha pushed his broken leg into the right position and transferred the new intel to the upcoming SHIELD team. They'd be able to take care of Hackergirl and whoever was left.

Tony and Steve had a moment of chaos for themselves as both tried to play down their pain and fuss over the other one, assessing wounds and seeing what they could do about it. Of course Tony had been right. He was clearly in better shape, since Steve at one point just passed out.

Soon enough a SHIELD response team swarmed the room and Tony found himself getting in their way as he tried to find anything resembling first aid material. He danced around agents, back to Steve.

He started cleaning out a wound, heard a pained hiss, and tried to proceed more carefully. He had to stop altogether when he suddenly found his head tilted up by two hands in leather gloves that were framing his face. He was pulled up until he could feel Steve's breath on his nose. If his adrenaline levels had started to drop, they were back up on peak level now and he almost missed Steve's words: "Hey, Tony, I meant that I wouldn't complain and I really hope you stop me if this is the wrong reaction."

Tony only understood what that was supposed to mean when he had Steve's lips on his own again. He didn't understand why Steve would do that, but he also couldn't find it in himself to resist. He melted against Steve and softly brushed some blood crusted strands of hair aside. Only when Steve dragged a thumb over his cheek, Tony realized that there were tears rolling down his face. Steve looked at him, puzzled. "Everything ok? I'm sorry, I - did I do anything wrong? I shouldn't have done it, right?" Panic was rising in his face.

The first attempt to say it only wrung a strangled noise from Tony's throat. He swallowed and tried again. "I love you, Steve. I love you and I was afraid you were dead." He could keep himself from sobbing but it was a close call. He also was incredibly grateful when Steve brushed away the paramedic who had stepped closer to check him over.

Then he found himself in a tight embrace that, on second thought, probably hurt Steve's ribs but he didn't flinch or complain. On a first thought Tony distinctly felt his injured hand stuck between them. He considered letting go, clenched his teeth and stayed where he was. 

"I didn't, Shellhead," Steve murmured into his hair. "Thanks to you, I didn't die, and I feel like an idiot for never saying it before, but I love you too."

 

 

[day 2, Avengers Mansion, Workshop]

"Tony, I don't want to fly myself," Steve protested again. "I'm a foot soldier. I may pilot a jet, but I'm definitely not taking up flying with jet packs or whatever you come up with next."

Tony looked up from his tablet where he had been sketching designs for some kind of small scale jet pack. He caught Steve’s gaze and hoped that his stare alone could maybe somehow mold Steve's thoughts.

"But I can do it. You don't have to use it outside of emergencies. I just -" he thought back to seeing Steve fall. Back to the armor that had ever so barely managed to keep Steve and Natasha from crashing into the ground at full speed. It had been so close that Steve was still healing. "I just don't want to lose you. Ever."

Steve withheld his stare for long seconds before he pulled Tony away from the work bench and made them stand face to face. Strong hands rested on Tony's shoulders, keeping him right there. "You won't," Steve said, voice laced with conviction.

"How can you say that? You fell. There was nothing to save you." When Tony felt his thoughts slip into erratic circles, Steve pressed a finger onto his lips and shut him up.

"There was. You, Shellhead. There is always you."

Tony wanted to say that he couldn't always be there, that something would happen, but Steve didn't let him get a word out.

"I'm not a flyer. I have no idea what to do with myself up in the air like that. And that's not how a team works." Steve let his finger drop away from Tony's mouth. "We're a team. I'm not even talking about the Avengers. Just you and me. We're a team, the best team I could ever ask for, and in this team you rely on me to set your head straight when you lost your target." He pulled Tony closer. "And I rely on you to catch me when I fall."

Tony swallowed. There was still fear twisting in his guts, but he knew that Steve was right. "Best team you could ask for, huh?"

"No two ways about that," Steve said and pulled Tony in for a kiss.


End file.
